E-Mails and Emotions - A Valentine Tale
by patemalah21
Summary: Molly is receiving mysterious e-mail valentines. Who is her secret admirer?
1. Chapter 1

**E-mails and Emotions - A Valentine Tale**

Chapter One

On February 11th, Molly Hooper sat in front of the computer in her office and picked up her coffee as she perused the line up of new e-mails in her inbox. She took a deep sip, enjoying the slight bite of the bitter brew. She had recently stopped using cream in a effort to be more like Sherlock. She couldn't handle the sugar though, nasty stuff, made the coffee taste like syrup.

Scrolling down through the notices of upcoming meetings and hospital events, Molly paused her mouse over an unusual entry_. "Intensive Cardiology Seminar for Pathology, Attd. req." _ read the blurb. Molly's brow creased in puzzlement. This was new. She had not heard of this particular seminar before. She clicked on the link and read the notice. It was scheduled for the fourteenth. Hmm, she was usually given more time to adjust her schedule for any required meetings. Odd, it was an evening seminar and it was being held at a nearby hotel instead of the meeting room on the fourth floor. That was unusual, most such programs were held during working hours. At the bottom of the message was a small square button with the words, "Click here for more information." She quickly clicked on the description and a pale pink and white striped screen opened. Molly's eyes widened in surprise. What was this? The pink screen was edged with slightly darker pink roses. In the center was a large filigree heart with the words "Beam Me Up, Hottie!" written on it. Underneath the heart was a head and shoulders portrait of William Shattner as Captain James T. Kirk looking up at her with a very sexy look on his face.

Molly sat back and stared at the screen in amazement. What in the world? Who had sent her a Valentine? Who knew of her penchant for the original Captain Kirk? Well, everybody really she admitted to herself. Her love for Captain Kirk was known to all her friends. They constantly ribbed her about her crush on an actor in his eighties.

"It's not about William Shatner," she had tried to explain. "It's his persona as Captain Kirk that is so sexy. That never goes out of style."

No one seemed to understand her and she had been the brunt of several geriatric themed practical jokes.

Molly sighed. Evidently one of her friends was behind this. She was about to close the screen when Mary Morstan walked into her office. Molly looked at her friend and smiled.

"You are the one who sent the email, aren't you?!" Molly accused.

Mary looked puzzled. "Email? I didn't send you an email. What are you talking about?"

Molly, narrowed her eyes and stared at her friend. Mary didn't act guilty, she looked genuinely confused.

"Here," Molly said, and angled the screen so Mary could see it more clearly. "If you didn't send this, then who did?"

Mary looked at the e-valentine and giggled. "Well who ever sent it certainly knows you very well! Oooh! A secret admirer. This is so exciting! Wait until the girls in pediatrics hear about this!" Mary crowed.

"Don't you dare breathe a word of this," Molly threatened, "I have been the subject of too many jokes around here already." Molly looked at her friend with a pleading face. "Mary, don't say anything to anyone. Please promise me you won't."

Mary looked Molly's anguished face, "Oh sweetie, I won't say a word. Who do you think sent it?"

"Well," said Molly, "If it wasn't you, I don't know. It could be anyone I guess. Lots of people know I like Captain Kirk."

Mary frowned and stared at the screen. "Maybe someone up in IT?" She froze at the look on Molly's face. "Oh honey, forget I said that. Whoever it was, he knows how to get around the firewalls and filters in our system though."

Molly nodded in agreement. Bart's had programs designed to discourage inter-office shenanigans such as this. Whoever was responsible was taking a risk. HR did not treat such violations of the rules lightly.

Mary pointed to the bottom of the screen under the picture of Kirk. "What's that?" she said touching the grey line under the actor's picture.

"What do you mean?" Molly frowned, what she had dismissed as a simple grey line appeared to be a line of extremely small type.

She highlighted the line, copied it and pasted it on a blank screen in her word processor program. She then proceeded to enlarge the type until it could be easily read. The sentence read: _"I boldly go where I have not gone before."_

The two women stared at the words.

"That's a quote from the show isn't it?" Mary observed.

"No," Molly said, "It's similar though. "It should say '_To boldly go where no man has gone before,' _it's a shame he messed it up. I'm disappointed."

"Oh I don't know," Mary said, " Maybe he changed it on purpose to fit the situation! Not that I'm saying you are not virtuous dear, but you aren't a virgin now, are you?"

Molly scowled at her friend. "Maybe he's the virgin."

They both looked at each other and giggled.

"I'll wager that it's that good looking doctor in Oncology, the one I saw chatting you up in the canteen," Mary said.

"Ernie Phyffer?" Molly giggled. "I don't think so. He just wanted to know what brand of mascara I use. I really don't think he is too interested in girls, if you catch my drift."

"Oh," Mary said with a disappointed sigh. "Well it's clear, somebody out there likes you. All you have to do is show up at the hotel at the appointed time to find out who he is!"

Molly shook her head. "I don't think it's going to be that easy."


	2. Chapter 2

**E-mails and Emotions - A Valentine Tale**

Chapter Two

The next morning Molly sat in front of her computer and checked her incoming mail. She really didn't expect to find anything, after all it was five-thirty in the morning.

Evidently, her secret admirer knew her schedule, for there on her screen was the same heading as yesterday. . _."Intensive Cardiology Seminar for Pathology, Part 2." _

Molly hesitated, Who was doing this? She had already checked with Central Scheduling to confirm that there was no such seminar on the docket. This was a little disturbing, but at the same time rather thrilling. She had a secret admirer! She was going to be so disappointed if it turned out to be a practical joke by some of the girls.

Molly clicked the entry. On the screen appeared the same general information as yesterday. The day, time and place remained the same. Under the name of the hotel was an additional line: "_**Evening attire required**_."

Things appeared to be getting serious. He wanted her to dress up? Molly could just see herself showing up at the hotel dressed to the nines to be surrounded by laughing friends. Sometimes her coworkers didn't understand how stressful their jokes were. Curious, Molly clicked on the "More information" button.

A picture on a black background appeared. Molly laughed delightedly as the ridiculously haggard face of "Miracle Max" from the move "The Princess Bride" came up. Under the photo were the words TRUE LOVE . Under the title were words written in small print. Molly knew from watching the movie so often it should say _"(The greatest thing in the world except for a nice MLT mutton lettuce and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is lean and the tomato is ripe. They're so perky. I like that!)_

This time the text read: True Love_. (The greatest thing in the world is you in that lovely blue dress you wore at the New Year's Eve party. You looked so lean and ripe and your breasts were very perky. I like that!)_

Molly sat back for a minute and thought. Who knew she adored "_The Princess Bride_?" Not many at work. That fact began to narrow the field as to who her admirer could be. Of course, maybe he had help. Someone who knew her well could be leaking information. Molly sighed in frustration. Another dead end.

"Is that a picture of one of your relatives Molly? He looks like he could use a hair cut," Sherlock Holmes voice bounced across the room and Molly shrieked in surprise.

"Sherlock, don't sneak up on me that way!" Molly scolded. Really the man could appear and disappear like a ghost, and often did.

"So what are you looking at?" Sherlock asked. Molly could tell he wasn't really interested, She closed out the email and looked up at the detective.

"What brings you to Bart's so early? Are you on a case?" she asked.

Sherlock scowled slightly. "Not really. I'm leaving for Paris this afternoon to do some legwork for Mycroft." He grumbled a few words under his breath that she couldn't understand. Molly was glad his relationship with Mycroft seemed to have improved since Sherlock returned after what everyone who knew him called "The Fall." It couldn't be said that the brothers were close, but they did talk more frequently and Sherlock had gone so far as to handle several cases for his brother. She wished she could say the same for the relationship between herself and Sherlock. To be honest, Molly didn't have a clue about how Sherlock felt her. He was different; friendlier, yet he seemed to blow hot and cold. Molly never knew whether he was going to peck her cheek in a friendly way or scowl at her and tell her to get lost. Molly still had deep feelings for Sherlock, but lately she had given up all hope of it ever developing into a true loving relationship. She had settled for being the loyal friend. It was a bitter pill, but one that she had swallowed. It was much easier now to be around him. She didn't expect anything from him and, frankly, it was a relief not to wear her heart on her sleeve.

His face brightened slightly as he grinned his _'I need something from you' _smile.

"I need fingers, Molly. Five or six will do. Preferably with the nails intact. I shall just have time to set my experiment up before my flight. They should be in excellent condition by the time I return Monday."

Molly wrinkled her nose at the thought of what condition the digits would be in by that time. Rotting flesh didn't bother her, but she had learned to not inquire deeply into any of the experiments Sherlock chose to do in his home. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. She lead the detective back to the morgue storage area and packaged the requested fingers for him.

"Thanks Molly." Sherlock leaned down and kissed her cheek briefly. He stood still for a moment and pursed his lips slightly when she didn't react to his kiss. He grabbed the bag of fingers and sailed out the door.

Molly sadly watched him go. She didn't have any illusions about his feeling anything for her. The kiss was definitely a ploy to stay in her good graces. She would miss him. If he was going out of town it might be a couple of weeks before she saw him again. Molly shrugged her shoulders and got on with setting up the room for her first post mortem of the day.

_A/N Two chapters posted today. The last two will be posted tomorrow._


	3. Chapter 3

**E-mails and Emotions - A Valentine Tale**

Chapter Three

The next day Molly didn't find an email waiting. It wasn't it there when she arrived nor at morning break time. She checked just before lunch but found nothing. She found herself moping about the morgue. This was ridiculous, surely she wasn't depressed because her secret admirer had not sent a Valentine today! Mary dropped by during lunch time and was disappointed as well. She had brought a list of likely candidates for Molly to think about.

"What about that dishy DI, Lestrade!" Mary jokingly poked Molly on the shoulder and continued, "Lestrade knows you as well as anyone, and from what Mrs. Hudson tells me, he likes you a lot."

Molly blushed. "No, it's not him. He and his wife made up about a month ago and they are expecting their third child."

Mary shook her head. "What a shame. He is so nice and really cute. Well, how about the forensics officer. Anderson. What about him?"

Molly nearly choked on her sandwich. She took a gulp of tea and shook her head vigorously side to side. "No! Don't even go there. You'll make me lose my lunch!" Molly despised Anderson. He was a creep. He had the audacity to come on to her once while she was working alone in the morgue. Molly could tell he had been drinking. Evidently he had broken up with his girl friend and had a fight with his wife. He had pushed her into a corner an suggested that he could give her what she needed. At first Molly had been too shocked to take in exactly what Anderson was hinting at. It took his hand fondling her left breast in order to snap her into action. Molly had slapped his face and threatened to tell Lestrade if he ever tried anything like that again. When that didn't seem to work, she angrily kneed him in the groin and informed him that the morgue had surveillance cameras and if he didn't leave her alone she would show the tapes to Sherlock and let him take care of him. Actually, there were no cameras, but Anderson did not know that. He had finally left grumbling and surly, and had told her she deserved a cold hearted beast like Sherlock.

"No", Molly asserted again, "it isn't Anderson. He doesn't know what I like at all, and he is definitely not romantic!"

Mary looked at her friend appraisingly. "Okay, do you have anything you want to tell me about Anderson, Molly?"

"No," Molly said shortly and refused to say more.

Mary quickly went through a rather long list of doctors, nurses and orderlies, as well as a janitor or two. none of who knew Molly well enough to send the tailored greetings she was receiving. Mary ticked off each name with the shake of her head.

Next on the list was John Watson. Mary grinned as she read his name. Molly just looked at her friend and rolled her eyes.

"Mary, you have kept the poor man so occupied, there is no chance he would have had time to make up those emails, even if he felt like it. Besides, the man only has eyes for you." Molly smiled and patted Mary's shoulder. "I know you are crazy about the man; I mean he's nice and all, but you know, well. . ." Molly trailed off, running out of words to assure Mary that John was a catch, while at the same time letting her know that she was not interested in him in that way.

Mary grinned at her friend. "Relax, I already made sure he is not the man involved."

"You told him about all this?" Molly said in a horrified voice.

"Of course I did." Mary said without batting an eye. "John and I do not have secrets from each other. Besides I wanted to pump him about his flat mate."

Molly turned beet red. "Oh goodness, you didn't tell him you thought it might be Sherlock did you?"

"Of course not! I have more finesse than that! I just casually mentioned to John that you were receiving Valentines from a secret admirer and did he have any thoughts on who it might be."

"What did he say?" Molly asked, interested in spite of herself.

"He said he didn't know of anyone, but with a woman as lovely as you, you certainly could have any number of fellows willing to send valentines to you."

"Oh, that is just so sweet!" Molly smiled.

"Yes and that's one of the many reasons I love him," Mary gushed. "He also asked me if I wanted him to ask Sherlock to look into it for you."

"Tell me you told him no!" Molly wailed.

"Relax, I told him that was the last thing you would want and to make sure he did not say anything to Sherlock about it. You don't need Sherlock to interfere and frighten away what sounds like the perfect man for you."

"Thank God," Molly said and meant every word.

"Well," said Mary, "that leaves the last name on my list." She paused a long moment, then said his name rather dramatically, "Sherlock Holmes!" The two women looked at each other and burst into fits of giggles.

"I can't even begin to imagine him doing something like this," Mary chortled.

Molly grinned in agreement, but deep down, a fluttery feeling refused to let go of the idea. She wished it was Sherlock. She knew it was just because she still loved him. In spite of all the dreadful things he had said and done to her over the years, deep down part of her still wished for a fairy tale ending. She resolutely pushed the idea aside.

"I don't think it is Sherlock. It's probably some of the girls setting me up for a practical joke." Molly humped her shoulders a bit and shrugged. "'I'll find out soon enough."

Mary gave Molly a squeeze and wished she had not promised to keep quiet about the Valentines. If those girls had anything to do with this she would kill them. She looked at her friend. Poor Molly was so vulnerable. Mary hoped with all her heart her friend was not being set up for a huge disappointment.

"Why don't you check your computer again?" she asked cheerfully.

"Okay, but when I checked an hour ago it still hadn't arrived. Maybe there won't be any more. Maybe its all a joke."

"Perhaps he is just running late." Mary consoled her friend.

Molly and Mary moved into Molly's office. Mary watched intently as Molly brought her screen up. There it was, third from the top . . ._ Intensive Cardiology Seminar for Pathology, part 3._

Molly gave a small sigh of relief. She quickly clicked on the opening page. Everything was the same as usual with the addition new words under yesterday's request for formal attire. Tucked neatly under yesterday's clothing request was another command. _ Wear your hair down. I like seeing it flowing about your shoulders_.

"Ooooh Molly!" He's really getting personal!" Mary squealed.

Molly stared at the words. He liked her hair down. She couldn't remember the last time she had worn her hair down at work. Perhaps he had seen her out and about town. She often wore it down if she was meeting the girls at a pub. She shook her head and clicked the more information button.

Molly gasped in delight. It was a picture of the blue tardis from Doctor Who. There was a large pink heart behind the blue box. On the outside of the box in large white letters were the words:

KEEP CALM AND BE MY COMPANION

Molly and Mary grinned at each other.

"Now that's just plain romantic." Mary observed.

Molly wholeheartedly agreed. She loved Doctor Who more than James Kirk, more than The Princess Bride. She had been an avid fan since she was a little girl. How could one man know so clearly what she liked? Molly looked down at the small print to see what he would say. He paraphrased Molly's favorite quote from her favorite episode. He was clearly quoting the 10th doctor who left a message about the weeping angles. The original quote was:

_" Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And don't blink." _

Her mystery admirer had written:

_"Just think. Think and you're ahead. Don't turn your back on me. Don't look away Molly. Just think and you will know who I am."_

Molly stared at the picture. Who was he? She noticed an additional line of very fine print below the quote.

It read: _In all of time and space, I am yours._

"Oh Molly! You have to find this guy and hang on to him. Never let him go! If someone sent a message like that to me I think I would just melt into a puddle!" Mary said softly. "Are you sure you don't know this man? He seems to know you awfully well."

Molly shook her head. She didn't know. She didn't know for sure and she was not going to set herself up for disappointment. She was not going to hope. She was choosing not to think.


	4. Chapter 4

**E-mails and Emotions - Chapter Four**

She opened the door to her office and stared at the computer sitting innocuously on her desk. It was the big day, the fourteenth, Valentine's Day and as she stared at the dark screen across the room she felt a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. Would her admirer send another Valentine today, or would the upcoming meeting this evening be deemed sufficient?

She crossed the small space and sat down at her desk and stared at the computer. Damn, she needed a cup of coffee in order to gather courage enough to turn the darn thing on and take a look at her email list. She stood up walked out of her office and down to the canteen, where she purchased a cup and returned to her office, trying to convince herself she really enjoyed the bitter burnt flavor. Molly sat back down and continued to stare at the empty screen for an additional ten minutes before she reached over with slightly trembling fingers to press the button that activated the machine.

There It was, the email was just sitting there waiting for her to open up and read. Just one click away. She had convinced herself late last night as she lay sleepless in her bed that it all had to be a hoax, a cruel practical joke. She could think of at least three people who called themselves friends who would absolutely be up to the task, but now she desperately wanted it to be all to be real. Just once in her sad somewhat love-starved life, Molly Hooper wanted to be cherished, loved for who and what she was. She wanted to be held in high esteem and to know with out a doubt she was loved. That wasn't too much to ask was it?

Her hand hovered over the mouse. It would be so romantic if there really was a mysterious guy out there waiting to fulfill her every desire. Molly's imagination was vivid, but bulked at that last thought. No one ever had all their desires met. She could settle for someone who at least seemed interested in her and was willing to attempt to act out a few of her best fantasies. Molly grinned to herself, one or two fantasies wasn't too much too ask. After all, a girl had to have her dreams. It was the fault of whoever this was anyway, she decided. Anyone who was bold enough to send cheesy e-valentines, even if she secretly thought they were very romantic, deserved to have to participate in a fantasy or two. She flushed a little as her favorite one came to mind.

One way or the other this whole thing would be over soon and she would get back to being herself again. Plain old Molly from the pathology department, proficient and ever practical Molly, owner of one cat Molly. Woman with an overactive imagination and a slightly damaged penchant for a certain brilliant detective who was currently gadding about Paris Molly.

She clicked and opened the email and was slightly disappointed that there were no new requests on the page. Yesterday's comment about her hair was still the last entry. She scrolled down and clicked on the "More info" button.

There in the middle of a plain white screen was a picture of an ostrich feather which had been dyed a very vibrant shade of purple. Underneath were the cryptic words_: I would always notice_.

"Oh my!" Molly exclaimed. She stared at the screen. With a thudding heart she realized she knew who was sending the Valentines. She quickly went back and carefully read all the Valentines again. Reading them, knowing the identity of the sender gave the words deeper meaning, or at least she thought they did. Was she going crazy? She returned to the screen which contained today's Valentine.

There was only one other person in the world beside herself who knew about the significance of purple feathers. Memory of a wet soggy day three and a half years ago crashed into her mind. . .

ɸ

It was less than a week after "The Fall." Sherlock was temporarily camped out on her couch, waiting for the paparazzi to tire of his story long enough for him to escape the country. Already he was bored beyond belief. She had returned home to find her usually neat flat in utter chaos. She had found him in her bedroom sitting on the floor in front of her closet casually going through a box of mementos from her parents.

"Sherlock! What do you think you are doing?" she demanded.

Sherlock replaced a gold pocket watch and lifted out a long flat box. He looked up at Molly with no sign of realizing he was invading her privacy. "Bored" he muttered as he lifted the lid on the box which revealed at least two dozen fancy valentines and curiously enough an equal number of purple tinted ostrich feathers of the type milliners used to decorate hats. Sherlock glanced up at her with raised eyebrows.

"Clearly the cards were kept for their sentimental content. Why feathers?" He asked.

Molly smirked and sat down on the floor beside him. Aren't you able to deduce them?"

Sherlock huffed with annoyance. It was a sound Molly secretly loved to hear.

"Obviously they have sentimental value. They have some connection to your parents, as everything in this box contains keepsakes about them." He pointed to the feathers Molly was gently caressing. "Those were a gift from your father, as they are packed with the cards he gave your mother. The fact that there are quite a few of them, and that they are of varying size and shades, tells me that they were probably collected over a span of time rather than all at once. It is why they were collected I find a mystery."

"I haven't thought about these for years," Molly said softly as she gathered the feathers up in her fingers and gently spread them out in a fan shape. She looked at Sherlock and grinned.

"Are you sure you want to know? It's a true love story. You might not want to contaminate your brain with such silly maudlin thoughts," Molly fanned the impromptu fan back and forth and audaciously batted her eyes at Sherlock.

Sherlock stared at her curiously. He hadn't seen Molly in such a relaxed mood for ages. He quite liked it. He nodded his head and said. "If it is too sentimental I can always delete the information. Please proceed."

Molly bowed her head and tipped the fan against herself in the age old language that meant assent. She knew all about Sherlock's rather odd selective memory. Goodness knows, she had found herself victim of it often enough.

"You know my father was a research scientist?" Molly asked.

"Yes," Sherlock acknowledged.

Walter Hooper was an name quite renowned at the Dunn school of Pathology at Oxford; his work in Microbiology was still standard reading five years after his death.

"Dad was a person most would consider a little difficult to be around. He was opinionated and tended to be rather stern. We never doubted he loved us though. Dad could get really wrapped up in his work," Molly reminisced. "He often came home from the lab and would disappear downstairs in the basement where he would work on his personal projects for hours at a time. In that regard, You remind me a lot of him," Molly said absently, not catching Sherlock's startled glance.

"Mum would put up with it for a time, but eventually it would all get to her and she would go to the head of the steps and yell down at him at the top of her voice," Molly giggled. "I can still hear her doing it."

She looked at Sherlock sideways as she fluttered the feathers back and forth. She cleared her voice and imitated her mother, "Walter Hooper! You get up here immediately. Your own daughter won't recognize you if you stay down there much longer. I'm having an affair with the milk man you know! He appreciates me. At least he knows I'm alive! I declare Walter, I could dance down the street naked with a purple feather in my hair and you wouldn't notice! Maybe I'll strip down and do that right now!" Molly giggled merrily. Sherlock watched her expressive face with fascination.

"That always did the trick," Molly laughed. "Dad would pop up out of the basement and for the next few days he would be the model father and husband. Of course it never lasted. In a month or so Mum would be yelling down the steps again. But it worked for them. I don't remember them every fighting more than what you would consider normal for any couple and they were always quick to make up. He always gave her a purple feather every year with her Valentine card." Molly petted the feathers in her hands gently. "He said she could have them made into a headdress like the showgirls wear in Las Vegas and if she ever got to the point of carrying out her threat he wanted her to be the best looking naked lady on the street!" Molly lay back on the floor and laughed helplessly.

ɸ

Molly abruptly came up out of her daydream. She stared at the purple feather on the computer screen. What was Sherlock trying to tell her? What did all this mean? She stared several seconds more before she remembered to scroll the page a little. Yes, there it was. The grayish line of small type awaited. She quickly copied, cut, pasted and enlarged the image to reveal today's secret message:

_I would give you my heart, but I have been informed that I don't have one._

Molly thought quietly for a few moments and then picked up her phone and took the rest of the day off. She grabbed her coat and purse and headed home in a rush. She didn't normally take off work, but this was important. She wanted to look her absolute best this evening.

ɸ

Molly was very nearly a nervous wreck as she climbed out of the cab in front of the hotel that evening. She thanked the tall doorman who held the heavy brass and glass entry door open for her. She walked slowly across the impressive lobby to the top rated restaurant located to the left. Oh God, she thought to herself, what was she doing here? Immediately repenting her mild curse, she squared her shoulders and walked up to the entry and gave her name. She was expected. The maître d' smiled courteously and escorted her to a small very private plant enclosed corner which had been reserved for her.

"Your date will be with you momentarily," the maître d' assured her quietly as he seated her at the small table. "He wishes to convey his regrets that he is not here at the time of your arrival. The Duke of Cambridge is dinning with us this evening and requested a moment with him." He smiled at Molly's widened eyes and assured her that he would personally make sure that 'her date' did not become unduly detained.

A few moments later Molly looked up from her glass of water and he was there. He always seemed to be able to sneak up on her. He stood there, looking undeniably handsome. Sherlock Holmes wore well fitting suits daily and always managed to look top notch. Tonight, he had outdone himself. The black suit was new. Molly noticed. The fit was incredible. The creamy white shirt underneath gleamed slightly with narrow satin stripes in the same tone. Molly swallowed. Was that... yes...he was wearing a bow tie! She thought she just might swoon.

"Thank you for coming tonight Molly," his deep voice vibrated gently against her ear as he helped reseat her at the table. Molly hadn't been aware that she had stood up at his arrival. "I'm sorry I was not here when you arrived," he apologized. "I was unavoidably detained for a few minutes. I hope it did not make you feel too uncomfortable?"

"The Duke of Cambridge?" Molly asked.

"Ah well, I was able to aid his family in a small matter a few years ago and for some reason he wished to personally thank me," Sherlock made it sound like a matter of little or no concern.

"Oh," Molly managed to squeak.

"You look lovely tonight, Molly," he said with a husky tone in his voice. "Your hair is particularly beautiful, and your dress is as lovely as I remember." Sherlock gazed intently across the small table at her.

"Thank you," she breathlessly managed. She knew she looked her best tonight. After leaving work she had managed to book a last minute appointment at her favorite hair salon. It was amazing what a wash, trim, and curl could do for a girl's confidence. She especially loved the new highlights her beautician had convinced her to try. Her hair had never looked better.

Sherlock continued to guide the conversation. He was witty and managed to have her seeing the Paris streets and events as he regaled his stories. He was perfect. They placed their order and when the food and drink came Molly found it was outstanding. After eating, he lead her out to the dance floor. Who knew Sherlock Holmes knew how to waltz? Molly was a quick study and managed not to do too poorly. It was all perfect.

"Sherlock, Did you mean those things you said in the emails?" Molly asked shyly.

Sherlock looked slightly uncomfortable but his gaze was direct and warm. "Yes, I did, Molly. I have always found it easier to text and email in my communications with others. Less chance of misunderstanding. I sensed earlier this month that I was beginning to lose you. You seemed distant and less caring. I knew I needed to take action before it was too late. Was I wrong?"

Molly shook her head. "No, you were not wrong. I gave up hope on you wanting anything more than just a friendship."

Sherlock frowned slightly and ran his fingers through his hair. "When you closed up on me," he said finally, "I felt disturbed. Something was missing. I am a creature of habit, and I soon realized I missed your affection. I missed it so much I not only wanted it back, but I wanted more. I still want more. Am I too late? Molly?" His voice contained a raspy note that nearly broke Molly's heart.

He had moved his chair so that they sat side by side. Molly gently raised her hand to caress his face. He looked into her gentle eyes and was relieved to see the answer to his question.

"Oh Sherlock, I will always love you. It will never be too late as long as we work together." The two heads blended together and lips met in a kiss of promise for the future.

At last, Sherlock pulled back slightly and fished about in his pocket. He pulled out a small slender box and handed it to her. "I had this made just in case," he said and placed it into her hands. "It's a comb for your hair."

Molly's fingers trembled slightly as she opened the box imprinted with a famous Parisian Jeweler's name. Inside the velvet lined box lay the most beautiful piece of jewelry Molly had ever seen. She gasped in delight. It was a delicate purple feather. From the silver teeth designed to grip in her hair, to the delicate curve of the cloisonné purple fronds, the feather was exquisite. Nestled near the bottom of the quill were three small cloisonné roses surrounded by six small diamonds.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Sherlock removed the comb from it's box and carefully pulled her hair back from the right side of her face and placed the comb so that it held her hair back as the feather nestled firmly behind and slightly above her ear.

"A promise for the future," he whispered, "in case you ever need to yell down the stairs. I will not only not forget you, but I will come up and join you and we can both dance naked down the street together if you like!"

"Oh Sherlock!" Molly's voice wavered with emotion "I..."

Whatever she was about to say was lost in a emotionally satisfying kiss that promised to go on for some time. As the waiter approached the table he realized the couple were too busy with each other to want anything more from the menu. He discretely walked away and allowed them to enjoy the dessert of each other.

Happy Valentine's Day!

_A/N For your information, the first three e-Valentine's are real and were sent to me by my ever-loving hubby Doctor Napalm. His valentines inspired this story. My personal favorite of course is Captain Kirk (beam me up hottie!) _

_The purple feather background story is completely fictional, however the purple feather threat is not. Ladies, I have first hand knowledge that the threat works, though I have yet to have to carry through on it. Personally, I like Sherlock's suggestion at the end best! LOL!_


End file.
